This time it was neither Hemingway nor my cell phone that woke me up, but rather the feeling of tightness on my wrists, causing me first flinch and then open my eyes. The small lamp in the corner was the only light in the room, casting an eerie shadow on everything it touched.

It was like looking threw frosted glass*, the vision seeming more like a dream than a reality. The pain in my arms and stomach caught my attention, and I tried bringing my arm into my sight, without any luck. I tugged again, and again noticed the pain I immediately felt in my wrists.

Panic overtook my whole body, causing me to utter a pleading guttural noise. I was immediately shivering, noticing the unfamiliar room. I looked up to my arms, which were constrained due to the rope which was connected to both of my wrists and the metal headboard.

I closed my eyes. This pain was too real, it hurt too much to ignore. I couldn't sleep this away. My mind was trying to put the pieces together, but the fog seemed too dense.

I swallowed the sticky saliva that had collected in my mouth while sleeping, coating my throat enough to let out a mere whimper. I closed my eyes again, and began to pull on my arms, which only proved to increase the pain that resided in my wrists. I kicked my feet, which were completely free of restraints.

I was in full distress mode, my body withering, trying to free myself. I glanced up at the rope again and used my body weight to again pull against the rope. I groaned loudly, trying with all my might. I felt tears flooding my eyes, clouding my vision again as the muscles in my arms felt gelatinous.

I collapsed, breathing heavily and sobbing. I couldn't control my tears, and my chest was heaving rapidly, causing me suck in air every chance I got. I cried louder, the frustration tugging at my mind.

"Get me the fuck out of here!!!" I finally screamed, and shivered when the words echoed off of the walls and back into my ears.

I had no choice but to look up at the ceiling, and cry harder. I was trying to cry myself to sleep, but the worry in my mind made it impossible.

Every time I felt the tears subside, my mind raced again with the possibilities. I rolled around, trying to identify if my phone was still in my pocket. No luck.

I remember the interview. I remember being hungry. I remember getting into a car with Brock. I must've fallen asleep. But why here? Who would do this?

"You've finally woken up, I see," I heard the familiar voice from the doorway and looked down to meet his eyes, and the sadistic smile on his face.

I no longer had to guess.

It was him.

"Kevin, you're scaring me," Patrick hardly whispered, the tears now finding themselves over his eyelids and down his face. He didn't notice as they collected on his t-shirt, soaking the fabric quickly.

"I called Ally, she's calling the L.A.P.D. Clay is trying to get a hold of David to see when she left, and who she left with," Kevin breathed, trembling. "I...it's my fault, Patrick. Whoever it is, he... he knows me, he has something against me. We're looking at sexual assault criminals that I've put away, but none of them fit,"

Patrick shifted uncomfortably and let his mind race. Kevin had worked with a million criminals in the past four years. How impossible would it be to track down the one who has Belle? And even if they did, how would they guess where he was? And would they get there in time?

That last thought made Patrick shudder and the tears fall even more rapidly. This stranger surely wouldn't kill her...he couldn't.

"What can we do?" Patrick asked, his voice trembling.

"I am going to go back through the evidence, back through files. It will come to me, just sit tight. Don't do anything stupid, and if you hear anything, call me," Patrick didn't reply, he just nodded his head in understanding. At this point his mind was louder than Kevin's voice.

This had to be some extravagant joke. Pete, Joe, Andy and Dirty were hiding around the corner. I closed my eyes tight and when I opened them no one popped out to surprise me.

I saw his silhouette near me and I shuddered when I felt his body weight on the bed.

"Why?" I croaked, squeezing my eyes shut. I didn't want to see him.

He didn't say anything, just shifted to lay down next to me. I felt his fingers brush the hair away from my face and flinched and squirmed away from him.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, trying to huddle into the fetal position, but the restraints on my wrists prevented me from doing so.

He grabbed my wrists to check the rope, and once satisfied he sat down again.

"You were the one who raped me," I paused to blink back the tears. "Why are you doing this to me?" I asked, a little bit more forceful this time.

"You want a motive?" His voice was emotionless and cold.

"Yes," I whispered.

There was a long pause, and as I was getting ready to ask again he answered.

"It wouldn't comfort you to know the reason I've done this. It wouldn't comfort you to know what I plan to do; what I'm going to do," He sounded calm, and the stability in his words made my blood run cold.

"I want to talk to my brothers," I said. He laughed dryly at my demand before getting off of the bed.

"Well, If I know your brother, and I believe I do, he's wracking his brain right now trying to figure out what's going on. I'll give him a half hour," And with that, he shut the door and left the room.

"Do you want something to drink?" Pete asked, swallowing his emotions as he poured a glass of water.

"Yea," Patrick replied, shuffling with his cell phone, almost praying for it to ring.

Pete had spent the last twenty minutes looking at Patrick disbelievingly as he explained the situation, breaking down into sobs every time he had to spit out her name.

Pete felt like screaming, like crying... like breaking down. But one glance at Patrick told him he couldn't; he didn't have that option. He had to keep his head on straight, for Belle and for Patrick. But he knew he was one phone call away from a nervous breakdown.

The phone was halfway through it's first ring and Patrick eyed it nervously. "Unknown Number".

"Belle?" He barely squeaked, causing Pete to take a seat as close to him as possible.

"Did you find out anything?" Patrick asked, holding the phone up to his ear and gripping it tightly.

"He's fucking good, whoever he is. David said she left, and no one saw who she was with. He has no idea. But the L.A.P.D. were able to talk to a nearby store owner and the owner said he saw her with a tall man, about mid twenties, with dark features. They said he was in a business suit. The L.A.P.D. is getting a sketch right now, they'll fax it when it's finished."

"Even if they find him, how will we know where she is?"

"Any clue is better than nothing, Patrick," Kevin answered coldly. "But Ally is here and she wants to ask you some questions. I'm going to put you on speakerphone for a second. Hold on,"

"Alright, I know we've already been through this before, but is there someone that maybe she knows and you don't? Maybe someone we've overlooked?"

"I don't know, I can't-" Patrick heard a shrill ring come from the other end of the phone line and stopped talking.

"Oh God, it's Belle's phone." Patrick heard Kevin tell him.

"Put your phone on speaker, Kevin. I want to hear her voice," Patrick pleaded as Kevin fidgeted with his cell phone.

"Belle?" Kevin's voice asked meekly.

"It's been a while," The strange male voice responded.

"Is she okay? Can I talk to her?" Patrick asked, now flipping his phone on speaker as well. Pete moved closer.

"I'm not so sure that's possible. You see, she's a little...tied up, at the moment," The uncompassionate voice replied.

Patrick began to sob uncontrollably and Kevin spoke up.

"What do you want?" Kevin asked, being completely prepared to bargain with this stranger.

"If only it was that easy. You see, you took something from me, and now I've taken something from you,"

"I will find you. I swear to God-" Patricks voice was interrupted.

"I've turned off the GPS in her phone, so that's not going to work. And you're in no position to be threatening me,"

Belle's voice was evident in the back ground, he heard a small whimper come from her mouth, and he swallowed back everything, trying to be as silent as possible to hear everything that went on.

"I must say I'm surprised that you don't know my identity, Kevin. But then again, you've never been that good at your job. You couldn't save her, much like you can't save Belle. She's doomed, and it's because of you," The voice said, raising his tone at the last sentence.

"Why did you rape her?" Pete asked suddenly, and Patrick shot him a look but listened intently anyway.

There was silence on the other end of the phone and some shuffling. Belle's incomprehensible pleas were muffled by the tape over her mouth.

"Well, it was never my intention, but she's just so irresistible. Wouldn't you agree, Pete?" The voice paused and more noise came from Belle. He could hear her sobbing, fighting to breathe through her nose. "Her soft, supple skin, her beautiful eyes. If I'm not mistaken, you've been, as of late, romantically involved with our beloved Anabelle. I'm almost sure you've forgot to inform dear Patrick of that,"

Patrick looked over at Pete, the confusion and feeling of betrayal evident in his eyes.

"Well, look at the time. I'm afraid I must be letting you-" Kevin cut off the man.

"I don't remember you, you sick fuck, and I don't care who you are! If it's me you want, then come and get me!" Kevin screamed menacingly.

"But that would make it too easy for you. I want to make you suffer like I did. Maybe you'll remember then," and with that the line went dead.

* I was actually looking for a proper adjective to describe the glass and that just popped into my head. How fucking bizarre is that?

/Authors Note: Sorry it's so short. My mind is just too excited for this, and I feel the need to post everything that comes out of my fingers. Review? Please?/